The good, the bad, and the really-awful-embarrassing mistakes

I'm going to put it out there. Sometimes, my milkshake brings ALL the boys to the yard. But sometimes, my milkshake has been left in the fridge a little long and rotten results ensue. No bueno.

This past weekend proved to be yet another opportunity to set my man-catching tally back a few points. My girl, Jade, and I went to Game 3 of the World Series (Go Rangers!), and if the score wasn't enough to tell you that someone's mojo was a little off, just sit back and wait. The Rangers weren't the only ones that walked home with their tail between their legs.

Overall, the night was amazing. One of the best experiences of my life. Just thought you should know that.

So, my really-awful-embarrassing mistake? Why the hell am I putting this on the Internet?

It all began with a hot dog. Get your mind out of the gutter. Ranger Ballpark has these pretty dang fantastic hot dogs wrapped in bacon, and Jade and I had to have one. We weren't the only ones.

As I'm paying for my hot dog ($9, worth every penny), Jade begins to tickle my ass in public. You're sitting there all appalled, but it's really not that unusual. It's true friendship. I'm, of course, feigning disgust at Jade over my shoulder and paying about zero percent attention to where I'm walking. Which is also no surprise. I was not born with very much poise or elegance. But then, by the grace of God, I turn around right as I'm about to slam into a guy. In my defense, he was blocking the mustard. I look up to say excuse my clumsy behavior, and I'm staring straight in to "The Bachelorette" contestant Lucas' face. Rather than excuse myself in a ladylike manner, what do you think I say? Wouldn't you know it that the only word that my college-educated brain could pull from my extensive vocabulary was... "shit". Yes, that's right. I screamed (Ok, it wasn't that loud) an expletive right in this dude's face. And THEN, as if I hadn't embarrassed myself enough, I spun on my heel to report my encounter to Jade at a decibel loud enough for Meryl Streep to hear in her luxurious and most certainly sound-proof abode.

Needless to say, the only picture I got of him was this one. As he was running away from the tacky, loud girl.

There you have it, ladies. Even the man-catching blogger screws up. A lot, actually, but keep reading because sometimes I get it right.